"I always knew it was just a matter of time before the King would see fit to raise me up to a position befitting my skills and experience," Mace Tyrell boasted from the Lord's Table in Highgarden's great hall. Ever since Robb had handed him the King's sealed letter, Lord Tyrell had been unstoppable in his self-congratulations. He had managed to organize the largest and most lavish feast Robb had ever seen in just a matter of hours. Singers and performers were dispersed throughout the hall, entertaining those in attendance. Servants brought out platters laden with every type of food one could imagine.

Seeing as he had been the bearer of the good news, Robb was invited to sit at the Lord's Table. He had been pleased to find the chair next to Margaery vacant when he entered the hall, dressed in his finest garments, which he had brought along just in case such a formal occasion arose. Although the clothes were stiff, he did like the direwolf proudly emblazoned on his chest. He had hesitated only briefly before stealing the seat beside Lord Tyrell's daughter. However, before he had a chance to say a single word to Lady Margaery, a small elderly woman with white hair quickly took the seat on his other side.

Lady Olenna Redwyne looked as if she would have liked to be anywhere other than watching her son make a spectacle of himself. She looked around the room in distaste several times before her attention finally settled on Robb.

"So, I believe we have you to thank for bringing the wonderful news of my son's elevation," the Lady spoke to him, obvious scorn invading her tone, even though a smile adorned her face.

"It was, my lady," Robb responded. "I don't be believe we have been properly introduced, I am-"

"There is no need for such," the lady interrupted. "Your look and manner scream northeman and Stark, and I hope you don't think me too arrogant, but my own reputation tends to precede me."

"It does, my lady," Robb responded.

"Yes, well, when you are woman not afraid to tell a simpering lord the way of things, you end up with the name Queen of Thorns. You don't look like one of those simpering lords, though."

"There is no time for simpering in the north, my lady. Life is somewhat more harsh than this," Robb gestured to the hall's extravagant display.

"I imagine so. I'll admit our way of life is a touch more refined than what you're used to."

Robb instantly frowned at her words. "We aren't beasts, Lady Olenna. We may be a heartier people, but I would say we're plenty refined."

"Oh, don't be so cross, boy."

"Grandmother..." Margaery exasperatedly cautioned from his other side.

"Don't worry dear, I meant no offense to the young man. I have great respect for Lord Eddard, just as I did for his father, the poor man. There's no finer a House in the Seven Kingdoms than the Starks."

"Thank you, my lady. No offense was taken," Robb responded, letting his irritation dissipate.

"I do have to say, you could have come simply to get a taste of the pleasures of Highgarden. There truly wasn't a need to bring troublesome news of royal appointments for my son."

"Troublesome?"

"Yes," the lady began, before stopping to take a swig of wine from her cup. While I enjoy politics and vigorous debate as much as the next person, I would have preferred avoiding King's Landing," Lady Olenna explained. "My son may believe himself to be the Lord of Highgarden, but I'm the one who sees to the management of the Castle. I want to make sure there is something left for my grandchildren to proud of when we're gone. Now I'm going to have follow my son to the capital to keep him out of trouble... and from letting the Lannisters bankrupt us."

"I apologize I wasn't able to bring better tidings, my lady."

"Oh, I don't blame you for someone else's foolishness. It's why decorum and honor says not to kill a messenger. Torture them a bit, maybe, but don't kill them," she laughed at the incredulous look on Robb's face. Luckily he was saved from saying anything further when Margaery rose from her seat next to him.

"I believe my grandmother has had enough fun at your expense for the moment, Robb. Would you favor me with a dance?" she asked, brightly.

Not needing much encouragement to be closer to the exceedingly beautiful woman, Robb practically flew from his seat. "It would be my honor, Lady Margaery." He offered his arm, which Margaery quickly threaded her won through, and they stepped down from the slightly raised dais on which the Lord's Table sat. A troupe of musicians were seated to the left side of the hall, and dining tables had been positioned to allow for dancing. A few other couples were already swaying to sound of the soft music from the string players.

Robb and Margaery inserted themselves into the crowd and reached for each other. He was quickly disappointed as he realized that she had changed her dress from earlier, the one that had that free to the air the large swathe of flawless feminine back. Still, he found counted himself lucky as his hands found their way to the curve of her hips, as hers simultaneously when to his neck. Chills went down his spine when the soft skin on her fingers accidentally brushed against the hair at the base of his neck. He barely realized that they had started moving until she spoke to him.

"I'm sorry about my grandmother," she sighed. "I admire that she is not afraid to speak her mind, but there are limits on what counts as appropriate conversation."

"It's no concern," Robb assured. "I know it is mostly out of concern for her family. I could never fault anyone over that."

"I think you did a wonderful job of not letting her get under your skin. She has a history of driving lesser men into a murderous rage."

"Most people who are not from the North tend not to understand why we have such pride in our homes," Robb explained. "Some might not find vast stretches of ice and snow covered woods beautiful, but we do. Part of it is because we have an understanding and great respect for how dangerous a Northern winter can be. It's even in my House's words. Winter is coming."

"And are your words true?" Margaery asked. "They say winter is truly coming soon."

"It feels that way," Robb answered. "And it's not just the chill in the air that speaks to it, there have been other signs as well. On our journey from Winterfell to King's Landing, we were attacked by a large party of wildlings. Seeing so many coming south is troubling."

"What's to stop them from coming here?"

"The Night's Watch, ideally," Robb told her in a voice lacking confidence. "And if the Night Watch is not up to it, then it falls to my father as Warden of the North."

"Well I know, if a Stark has a duty, than the job will be done properly," Margaery smiled, her white teeth gleaming in the hall's soft light.

Robb couldn't stop his own foolishly large smile that stretched across his face. "Well I know something too, and that is whether in the North or South, no one can deny the beauty of southern ladies."

"You are trying to flatter me Lord Robb," Margaery laughed.

"Is it working?"

"Very well. I hope someday I can visit your home as well," she added. "Though, maybe after winter has ended."

"I won't hold it against you for delaying your trip," Robb promised.

They danced for one more song in silence, simply enjoying their proximity and the skill of the musicians, which was impressive. Robb was so lost in the moment that he barely registered someone tapping his shoulder. He looked back and saw Margaery's father standing behind him expectantly.

"I hope you'll excuse me, Stark, but I'd like a dance with my daughter. It's not everyday she'll get a chance to dance with the King's new Master of Ships," Mace Tyrell gloated.

Feeling compelled, Robb stepped back and allowed the man to take his previous position. Robb grudgingly made his way back to the table, and to his seat next to Lady Olenna. He had barely sat down and reached for his cup before she spoke again.

"She's a real beauty, is she not?"

Knowing exactly whom she was referring to Robb nodded. "There aren't enough words to describe her beauty, my lady."

"Hmm, it is a shame that she's about to be turned into a political pawn."

Robb frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, that my son intends to bring her with him to King's Landing. And seeing as the current heir to the throne is unattached..." she trailed off.

"He means to make her a queen," Robb finished for her.

"Yes. And there is little chance that the King will say no. Highgarden has wealth and military strength. He will see it as a convenient way to strengthen ties and a way to finance his drunken debauchery."

"You don't wish to see your own granddaughter become queen one day?" Robb questioned, though the prospect of that reality pained him.

"Of course I would love to see Margaery become queen, and I know a part of her would as well. However, I would not have it be at the expense of her happiness and safety."

Robb laughed, darkly. "I don't know if you've ever had the opportunity to meet our beloved prince my lady, but I doubt she would be happy or safe with him. Frankly he's a spoiled piece of filth. If one day he becomes king, there won't be enough unpleasant monikers to add to his title."

"Normally, I would say your concerns were born out of lust for my granddaughter, but I have had other sources attest to his cruelty. They say there is more Lannister in him than Baratheon. You cannot trust a Lannister as far as you can throw one. Tell me, rumor has it something happened to your sibling while the King's party was at Winterfell. Is that true?"

"My little brother fell from a tower, and has yet to wake as far as I know."

"Fell?"

"Fell, unless he wakes and speaks differently. There were no witnesses to the incident," Robb elaborated.

"Let us hope he does wake soon then," the Queen of Thorns frowned. "Although, just a few words have the power to turn the world on its head."

Too many cups of wine, that had to be the explanation for why he had agreed the previous night to train with Ser Loras in the practice yard in the morning. Somehow the topic of the tourney in King's Landing had been raised, and Loras had inquired if Robb intended to enter. Robb should have realized it was just Loras' way of sizing up the competition, but he had been too enthralled with Loras' sister at the time too much to care. He cared much more at the moment. Loras was a complete contradiction and it served him well in a fight. He was barely older than Robb, but built smaller. His flamboyance and pretty armor made him look more showman than swordsman, but that was not the case. They had been training for barely a few minutes and Robb was already winded.

"Come on Stark, I was just warming up," Loras taunted him, clearly enjoying himself.

"As was I," Robb lied without much conviction.

"You need get closer to him," Jory whispered from his place behind him. "He likes to move about, and try to deceive you with his quickness. Step into him and give him less room to maneuver, and then overpower him."

Deciding Jory's approach was probably better than his own, Robb raised his sword and approached his opponent again. He tried to shut out the fact that there was a whole audience watching them, especially because he knew Margaery was there as well. Loras gave his sword a twirl and initiated an attack. Robb's was quickly put on defense, and as he parried the strikes his instincts told him to step back, away from the danger. However, remembering Jory's words, he swatted a way the next strike and pushed closer. The boldness of Robb's move caused Loras to misstep and temporarily lose his balance.

Robb took the chance to bring a vicious slice of his sword down towards the knight's shoulder. Somehow Loras managed to right his feet and bring his own sword high to block, but their blades were locked. Robb pushed every ounce of strength he had into his arms, trying hammer Loras into the ground. When he realized that the prospect wasn't likely to happen, he again used their proximity to his advantage, stepping behind Loras and sweeping his legs from beneath him. Loras fell backwards quickly, his arms splayed widely and leaving him defenseless. Robb took the chance to place the point of his sword at the center of the man's throat.

"Yield?" Robb asked, trying not to sound too pleased at his success.

"I yield," Loras said begrudgingly, knocking Robb's sword aside with his hand. The knight pushed himself to his feet, and held a hand out to Robb. "That was well fought, Stark. It seems they know something about fighting in the north."

"A thing or two," Robb grinned, taking the offered hand.

"It seems you've met your match, dear brother." They both turned and watched as Margaery approached, trailed by a group of other girls. She wore a dress of yellow and white, and her hair was pulled to one side.

"It was a good fight, sister, but it's a different matter when it comes to the tournaments," Loras stated, placing his sword back in his belt. "And we've only seen him with a sword. Let's see how well he does in the joust, where the real glory is."

"I'll leave the glory to you, Ser Loras," Robb responded. "I've not much need for it. It will be enjoyable just to compete against some formidable fighters."

"That sounds like an excuse from someone who's already accepted they won't win," Loras countered.

"Or it's just the truth, Loras," Margaery defended him.

"Of course, sister," Loras retreated. "If you'll excuse me, I mean to go clean up."

"So, care to escort me on a walk through the gardens, Robb?" Margaery asked as she stepped closer to him.

"I suppose-"

"Pardon my interruption, m'lady," Jory stepped towards them, casting an apologetic look towards Robb. "I don't mean to disappoint, but we should really be heading back for King's Landing. As lovely as Highgarden is, the other men are eager to return home. I'd have us make a good push today before nightfall."

"Unfortunately, Jory's right, my lady," Robb conceded, reluctantly. "I'm supposed to be aiding the King, and it would not be right to delay reporting back to him any longer."

Margaery just offered him an understanding smile. "Of course, Robb. I wouldn't expect anything less from you. Though, I will miss you." Jory chose that moment to fake a coughing fit and step back and give them some privacy.

"As will I, Lady Margaery," Robb answered, grabbing a hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. "Please offer my thanks to your father and brother for their hospitality. Fortunately, I don't think it will be long before we see each other again in King's Landing for the tourney."

"And I look forward to the tourney greatly. I'll even forgive you if you knock Loras on his back," Margaery whispered, conspiratorially. "Just don't tell him I said so."

"Your secret is safe with me, my lady."

Margaery offered him a final wave before calling over her shoulder, "I doubt it could be safer anywhere else." Robb stared after he until she was gone from sight, and then turned to an expectant Jory.

"Sorry Robb, didn't mean to interrupt your courtship of the young lady," Jory grinned.

"Yes, you did," Robb huffed, as they began making their way towards the stables.

"Maybe, just a wee bit," Jory confessed with grin. "You certainly aim high don't you? Wouldn't you be happier with a pretty young northern lass to warm your bed?"

"I likely would, but I just can't fathom a girl like Margaery being subjected to that Lannister piece of shit for the rest of her life."

"Unfortunately the world isn't fair, Robb. Men like Joffrey end up with women like Margaery quite frequently. There's not much to be done about it."

"We'll see," Robb grumbled. "Maybe I will have Grey Wind eat him. I'm sure he'd recover from the foul taste eventually."

Jory shook his head next to him. "I think when get back to King's Landing, I'm going to write Lord Stark. I mean to see if he'll accept my resignation as it looks inevitable it will become impossible to protect you."

"Don't be so dramatic, Jory. I'll give you adequate notice if I mean to do something truly stupid."